


We've Got Company

by alisvolatpropiis



Series: Alpha Stiles [2]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Stiles, Alternate Universe - Supernatural (TV) Fusion, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Biting, Bloodplay, Blow Jobs, Bottom Derek, But some plot snuck in there though, Comeplay, Crossover, Dirty Talk, Docking, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Somnophilia, Stilinski Pack, Uncut Derek, Werewolf Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-30
Updated: 2014-06-30
Packaged: 2018-02-06 19:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1869981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alisvolatpropiis/pseuds/alisvolatpropiis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s still strange for Derek, waking up next to someone. He’s opened his eyes to Stiles’ gorgeous face every morning for a month now, and it still surprises him. There’s so much about it that’s hard for him to accept: that he trusts someone enough to sleep next to him, that someone as breathtaking and powerful as Stiles inexplicably seems to love him, that Derek hasn’t felt the urge to run away since the moment he laid eyes on him.</p><p>Stiles is an incredibly heavy sleeper, so Derek doesn’t even bother being gentle or quiet about burrowing in closer to him. They’re on their sides, facing each other; Derek slides down the bed a bit so he can nuzzle into his neck, tossing a leg over Stiles’ hip, hitching closer. Stiles, still asleep, mumbles into his hair, warm breath teasing across his scalp.</p><p>This hunger, that’s new too. Derek’s never had a problem getting sex whenever he wanted, has become quite skilled, in fact, in taking what he needs from the men eager to sleep with him. But this – this bone-deep, nearly insatiable desire he feels for Stiles, the way his mind and body practically scream to touch him, taste him – is something wholly new and frightening in its intensity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We've Got Company

**Author's Note:**

> I told myself I wasn't going to dive into any more WIP projects right now because stupid real life is about to get crazy busy for awhile...but then I was thinking about how to continue [Welcome to the Pack, Omega](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1763981), and then there was this tumblr post about cockslut!Derek...and I couldn't help myself. It's ridiculous, how much I love writing (and reading) about these two idiots falling in love and fucking each other senseless. 
> 
> This is a Supernatural crossover! There's not much Sam and Dean here though - more of them (and some more plot-heavy stuff, but still lots of porn, of course) to, ahem, come!

It’s still strange for Derek, waking up next to someone. He’s opened his eyes to Stiles’ gorgeous face every morning for a month now, and it still surprises him. There’s so much about it that’s hard for him to accept: that he trusts someone enough to sleep next to him, that someone as breathtaking and powerful as Stiles inexplicably seems to love him, that Derek hasn’t felt the urge to run away since the moment he laid eyes on him.

Stiles is an incredibly heavy sleeper, so Derek doesn’t even bother being gentle or quiet about burrowing in closer to him. They’re on their sides, facing each other; Derek slides down the bed a bit so he can nuzzle into his neck, tossing a leg over Stiles’ hip, hitching closer. Stiles, still asleep, mumbles into his hair, warm breath teasing across his scalp. 

This hunger, that’s new too. Derek’s never had a problem getting sex whenever he wanted, has become quite skilled, in fact, in taking what he needs from the men eager to sleep with him. But this – this bone-deep, nearly insatiable desire he feels for Stiles, the way his mind and body practically scream to touch him, taste him – is something wholly new and frightening in its intensity.

He’d be embarrassed by it, if he wasn't pretty sure Stiles felt the same way. Stiles brought him home that first night, after he healed him from the poisoned bullets and they had crashed together in a frenzy. That night, Stiles’ home, where various members of the pack also live, a large house in the middle of the preserve, became Derek’s home. The first real home he’s had since the fire. Stiles made room for Derek in his bed and in his life, bringing him into his pack of young wolves without reservation. Of all the things Derek is starting to accept as true, this is perhaps the most stunning of them all: that Stiles seems to love Derek just as much as Derek loves him.

Derek kisses him, nibbling gently on the strong cord of muscle that runs from his broad shoulder to his neck. The musky scent of Stiles’ arousal spikes in his nostrils, makes him dizzy. He snaps his hips, a reflexive response to that delicious scent. His hard cock juts against Stiles’, half-hard and growing as the alpha slumbers on. He gently cups his perfectly round, tight little ass, letting his fingers settle in his cleft, pressing against his hole, still slightly wet and stretched from last night. Derek’s mouth fills with hot saliva, thinking about how he filled Stiles up and then licked his come out of him. 

He’s leaking already, balls aching for Stiles. Rutting again, he spreads his precome across Stiles’ dick, looking up to watch his face, gasping at how he smacks his lips, how his eyelids flutter but he still doesn’t wake up. He strokes him to full hardness before tearing his eyes away from his face to watch his hands work.

Derek shifts his hips so it’s easier to line up their cocks, both hard and leaking now, pulling on his foreskin, stretching it, slicking it up. He lines them up tip-to-tip, pressing their wet slits together, sliding his foreskin over the head of Stiles’ flushed cock, groaning at the new sensation. His tender foreskin, pulled just hard enough to make him wince a little, enough to fully encase Stiles’ head, is simmering with heat, sending rippling pulses of pleasure through his cock. He gets his hand around them both, careful to keep himself wrapped around him, stroking slowly, smiling at the slick-slide of their precome mixing together, the head of his cock buzzing where it’s pressed against Stiles’. Fuck, it wouldn't take much more for him to come like this, spraying all over Stiles with his foreskin still wrapped around him like his lips need to be, soon.

Keeping one hand around them both, he wraps the other around the base of his straining dick, holding off his orgasm. It barely works, especially when he finally looks up to see that Stiles is finally awake, eyes glowing a soft red, mouth open, panting slightly, staring down at their joined cocks.

“Fuck,” Stiles huffs when Derek smiles at him. “Good morning to you too, big guy.”

Derek answers him with a soft growl, running his beard, which Stiles insisted he grow, across his collarbone before sinking his teeth in hard. Stiles tugs his long fingers through his hair, pushing his teeth into him, urging him on. Derek's fangs slide free, piercing the skin in a hot rush of blood that he licks up greedily, spicy but also strangely sweet on his tongue, the wounds healing immediately. This is new too, letting himself lose control of the wolf a little bit during sex, knowing Stiles can take it, knowing that he _likes_ it, that he wants it. He bites down again, harder this time, smiling around the blood when Stiles ruts against him. 

He bucks hard enough to separate them, both of them whining a bit at the loss of connection. Derek scoots down the bed to suck at his nipples, smiling when he sees that his lips have left blood-red halos around them. He starts to work his way further down, mouth twitching in anticipation, but Stiles pulls him up by the hair, hands demanding. His eyes are glowing hotter and his fangs have slipped free too, and when he orders Derek to turn around his wolf practically howls, eager to submit to his alpha.

Stiles rolls on to his back, scooting up the pillows a bit until he’s mostly sitting up. Derek turns and swings a leg over him, mouth watering, hole twitching as Stiles plants his big, strong hands across his ass, just inches from his face. Stiles’ cock is rubbing against his own face, dripping strings of precome in his beard. He gasps into the warm, soft hair at the base of his cock as Stiles’ fangs sink into the tender flesh of his ass, his wet tongue lathing over the wound, leaching away the pain.

Derek wants to tease his cock, wants to drag this out, but he’s too hungry for it, too thirsty for the taste of him. He’s got all day to tease him, after all. 

He slicks him up with his tongue, swift drags up and down his shaft, spreading his spit and Stiles’ precome. Stiles spreads his ass wide and spits into Derek’s hole just as he swallows him down, making him groan and hum around his cock as it hits the back of his fluttering throat.  

Stiles has jokingly, lovingly, called him a cockslut, and he can’t even pretend that he’s not absolutely right when it comes to Stiles, at least. He’s never tasted anything as delicious as Stiles’ cock, warm and salty, thick veins pulsing against his tongue. It’s a testament to his love for it, really, that he’s so wrapped up in blowing him that it takes him a few moments to register the tantalizing rim-job Stiles is giving him. His tongue darts and twists into him, sloppy and wet, fingers stretching him open. Derek works Stiles’ cock, bobbing up and down as fast as he can, eyes closed tight, sucking lightly. It’s incredible, impossibly good, to be used this way, to have Stiles’ tongue fucking into him as he fucks his mouth, shameless in his raw need for it, for Stiles.

Stiles pulls his mouth away, quick to replace it with lubed fingers, Derek not even noticing when he got the lube out. His blunt human teeth sink into his ass as he shoves two fingers in hard, snapping his hips up into Derek’s mouth, gagging him.

Derek pulls off with a gasp, panting hotly against Stiles’ dick. He wraps his mouth around his heavy balls, rolling them between his tongue, humming softly. Stiles slides in another finger, relentless, demanding. “You ready for me to fuck you, omega,” he asks, voice husky, fingers pressing against Derek’s prostate.

Derek’s moan is something that sounds like a yes, a tortured mewl. Stiles laughs and pulls his fingers out, slapping his ass. “Turn over,” he orders.

Derek does as he’s told, flipping over and planting his feet on either side of Stiles’ muscled torso, leaning back to brace himself, gripping Stiles’ ankles. Stiles lines himself up, arching up as Derek bears down, holding his breath as he stretches into the burn, keening softly as Stiles fills him.

He never knew how good it could feel, to be _full_. It’s mind blowing, really, how perfectly they seem to fit inside each other. Stiles hooks his hand around his thighs, helping to hold him up as they fuck mercilessly, greedily. Stiles is talking, likes to undo him with his words while he undoes him with dick, his eyes locked on where he’s rocking in and out of Derek. “You look so fucking pretty taking my cock,” he pants, knowing just how to get under Derek’s skin.

“Harder,” Derek gulps, the word coming out in a rush. Stiles smiles, granting Derek’s request.

“That’s a good boy,” Stiles grunts, reaching for Derek’s bouncing cock. “I’m going to let you come now, because you’re such a good little cockslut.”

“Fuck, Stiles,” he moans, clenching tight around him as he starts to come the moment Stiles wraps his still lube-slick hand around his cock, tugging on his foreskin before stroking him roughly. He grinds down hard on Stiles’ dick as he spills across his stomach and chest, the last, powerful burst of come landing on Stiles’ face, his pink tongue darting out to lick it up.

Head thrown back, dazed, he’s still rocking his hips, Stiles still squeezing his sensitive cock as he fucks up into him even harder, Derek’s body looser now that he’s come. Stiles is moaning Derek’s name, smugness gone as he tumbles towards his own orgasm. He releases Derek’s cock and circles his hands around his calves, pulling hard, dragging Derek down even farther, impaling him, forceful pulses of searing come filling him up. Derek’s dick starts to harden again as he watches Stiles’ face, astonishingly beautiful in blissed out perfection, the pleasure shaking through his powerful body written all over his gorgeous features.

Derek falls back, arms and legs finally giving out, head hitting the foot of the bed with a muffled thud. The movement jars Stiles out of him with a slow drip. Stiles moves to lie next to him, resting his head on his chest and gathering up Derek’s come from his chest. His fingers find Derek’s still gaping hole, mixing their come together as he pushes them back in. The smell is like an elixir to him, cock hardening faster.

“God damn,” Stiles purrs, eyes glowing as they watch Derek’s hardening dick. “After the load I just fucked out of you, you’re ready to go again already?”

“It’s you,” Derek slurs. “It’s all you….”

Stiles laughs, a rich, melodic sound that sends tendrils of affection through his chest. “You’re a good little pup,” he growls playfully, letting his eyes flash brighter, knowing how much Derek likes to submit to his alpha. It’s ridiculously, really, how hot it gets him. Stiles is younger and smaller and even though he’s an alpha, and a powerful one at that, he’s only been a werewolf for less than a year. It doesn’t make any sense, how much power Stiles has over him, but he’s starting to care less and less, because it feels so good, so _right_. Maybe because he knows, somehow, that Stiles won’t use his vulnerability against him, that Stiles lets himself be just as vulnerable too, in his own way.

Stiles still has his fingers buried in him, is licking a sloppy line down his chest, stopping to bite at each nipple. He’s about to take his fully hard cock into his mouth when they’re interrupted by a quick, loud knock on the bedroom door.

“I hate to interrupt what sounds and smells like a really good time,” Jackson calls dryly from the hallway. “But we’ve got company.”

  **~*~**

Neither of them bother with a shirt, Stiles pulling on pajama pants before tossing Derek’s jeans at him. He pulls them on and follows Stiles down the stairs, trying to ignore his disappointed erection. Whoever’s driving up to the house unannounced better be damn worth it, he thinks as they walk out onto the front porch, Jackson and Erica behind them.

They hear it first, of course, the unmistakable rumble of a classic American muscle car echoing around the house before it slides into view, parking next to Stiles’ Jeep and Derek’s Camaro that they rescued from a San Francisco impound a few weeks ago.

Two guys get out, the one on the passenger side tall with long dark hair and really bad side burns. The driver, shorter with lighter, cropped close hair, meets Derek’s eyes for a second before he glances over at the Camaro. Those pale green eyes spark a flicker of recognition in Derek, but he can’t immediately place them.

The doors of the car – a black Impala, late sixties, fucking badass, to be honest - creak shut as the guys stand there for a moment. The familiar one is looking over the Camaro, the smirking recognition in his admittedly handsome, stubbled face mixed with grudging admiration as he eyes it, the younger cousin of his own car, clearly his baby. 

It’s then that Derek places him. The hunter in San Francisco, the one that pissed off the woman by not killing him. The one who shot him with a silver bullet.

The guy finally looks back towards the house, taking in Jackson and Erica, surely noticing the way Stiles has put himself in front of all them, body tense and alert. Derek watches his eyes rake over his and Stiles’ bare chests, Derek’s firm hand on Stiles’ lower back. The hunter's eyebrows go up in surprise, a small smirk darting across his face before he gets serious again.

“Derek Hale,” he calls out finally, voice low and gruff. Both guys walk forward, hands up, not quite in surrender, but in a sure signal that they’re not armed. Not obviously, at least.

The tall one looks resigned, like he’s not expecting whatever this is to go their way. Derek knows the feeling well. He steps forward so he’s standing next to Stiles. “I’m Derek,” he replies.

“Nice to meet you, uh, you know, officially or whatever. Sorry about the silver bullet, by the way.”

Stiles turns to Derek, eyes wide. “This is the asshole that shot you?” He turns back to the guy, growling, before Derek can answer.

“Stiles, wait,” he says, hand light on his forearm. He’s remembering the questioning look in the guy’s eyes, they way he hesitated before shooting him. “Let them talk."

“I’m Dean Winchester,” the hunter says. “This is my brother Sam. We’re here because we need your help.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://deleted-scenes.tumblr.com/)


End file.
